


in for a penny

by oh_la_fraise



Series: writing sprints [5]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sickfic, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_la_fraise/pseuds/oh_la_fraise
Summary: Five times Mako takes care of Wu, and one time Wu takes care of Mako.
Relationships: Mako & Prince Wu (Avatar), Mako/Prince Wu (Avatar)
Series: writing sprints [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641757
Comments: 4
Kudos: 196





	in for a penny

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the fic I should be working on at all, but Covid has completely turned my life upside down, and if a five year old children's cartoon is the first thing that sparks writing joy, so be it. Loosely inspired by these (slightly spoilery) [fan](https://pencilscratchins.tumblr.com/post/627189228535676928/unstoppable-moron-vs-inmovable-idiot) [arts](https://prince-wu-rightful-king.tumblr.com/post/628844008941207552/image-description-panel-1-prince-wu-from-the#notes), which live in my head rent free. Warning for canon typical violence and unhealthy coping methods (Wu saw his entire city torn apart; the boy needs a hug and lots of therapy.)

5.

Wu can admit, in hindsight, he may not have been the epitome of royal decorum when he first arrived in Republic City. He doesn’t totally remember his first few days ( _People are screaming, and the Dai Li are shuffling him past rotting bodies—)_ ; it’s mostly a haze of alcohol and sleep and trying to understand what the remainder of his Aunt’s advisors are telling him. The Dai Li remain in Ba Sing Se, trying to corral what’s left of the city, so President Radish or whatever his name is assures Wu that only Republic City’s finest will protect him.

The first guard lasts an admirable three days, until Wu orders her to brush her teeth. She storms off, and Wu can’t be anything but relieved as she takes the scent of hippofish with her. Wu generally tries to be kind to his servants, but really, he’s been brutally removed from his birthright; he figures he has the right to be a little snippy. The second guard lasts until Wu says some very unflattering things about his dull shoes, and after that it becomes a sick sort of a game: if Wu is destroying his guards with his poignant and truthful observations, he’s not having to think how everything he knew was ripped out from underneath him.

There’s a new guard that night; he’s handsome, Wu supposes, even with eyebrows that look like he drew them on in the dark. He’s quiet as he follows Wu from bar to bar, watching as Wu buys admirers drinks. If Wu keeps the royal purse flowing, then people stick around, and Wu doesn’t feel quite so alone. When Wu tries to stumble home (not _home,_ with the badgermole that loves _the Tales of Ba Sing Se_ and the elderly servant that always brings him extra dumplings, just a sterile, impersonal hotel room _)_ with a girl, though, the guard pulls him back, and, before Wu can entirely follow what happens, it’s just him and the guard in the back of a Satomobile.

“What the hell was that?” he snaps, bristling at the notion that this plebeian thinks he can order Wu around. “I had her in the bag.”

“You’re drunk,” the guard snaps, “and she was only interested in you because you’re royalty that was buying her drinks.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Wu snarls back. “It means I wouldn’t have been alone tonight.” It comes out more honest than Wu likes, so he lashes out further, “Since you cockblocked me tonight, maybe I’ll sleep with someone you like instead. Got any pretty exes? Or maybe I’ll look up your mother,” Wu says, feeling angry and vicious. He feels ashamed the moment he says it—Wu is not this person. But he’s hurting so badly, and he just wants someone else to feel as terrible. 

The guard grips him tightly as they exit the car, looking furious. Same as all the others, then; Wu’s finally worn him down. But even though the glare doesn’t fade, he’s somewhat gentle as he pushes Wu to the bed. 

When Wu wakes, he’s under a blanket and there’s a glass of water beside his bed. When he stumbles out to the living room, the guard is sitting there, stone faced as ever. Wu remembers what he said last night, emotions bared from the alcohol, and flushes with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” Wu says. The guard looks a little surprised. Wu doesn’t even know his _name,_ he realizes. “For how I behaved last night. I don’t know why I said what I did. I think I’ve just been. . .in shock, and I’ve been taking it out on other people.”

“Grief makes people do a lot of unusual things,” the guard says, and he looks less sour and more sad. 

After that, Wu stops drinking so much, and he doesn’t get any more new guards.

4.

They’ve just celebrated their one year anniversary (of me _working for you,_ Mako makes sure to add on any time Wu tells people that) when someone attempts to murder Wu in a bid to claim the throne. Wu collapses back on the couch, staring at Mako; if this is how he has to go, he wants Mako’s pretty face to be the last thing he sees. “I’m sorry we had to end things like this, Mako. It was truly a highlight of my life, getting to know you.”

Mako doesn’t even look up from the scroll he’s reading. “You have a cold.” 

“Tell that to the usurper when he’s being crowned on top of my cold body.”

Mako sighs and doesn’t say anything; instead he stands and shuffles into the kitchen, and Wu resigns himself to dying alone. There’s a clinking; Wu fades in and out as whatever he’s been poisoned with tries to take him, and when he becomes aware again, Mako is propping him up on the couch, pressing something delightfully warm to his lips.

“S’good,” Wu mutters, even though he’s not sure what it is.

“Lemon, tea, and honey,” Mako says. “With some painkillers mixed in. I used to make it for Bol—my little brother, when he was sick and we could afford it.”

_When we could afford it_ briefly snags in Wu’s clouded head, but it fades just as quickly. The painkillers are starting to kick in, and he’s feeling even drowsier than he was before. “Must be nice,” he says.

“What?” Mako asks. He’s scooping Wu up and pulling him against his chest, and Wu wouldn’t complain even if he were together enough too. 

“Having family.”

“You didn’t have family? Before the siege, I mean.”

“Parents died when I was little,” Wu explains woozily. _Wu_ -zily. Hah. “Car crash.” Wu has always had his suspicions—the Dai Li have always warned him of assassination attempts from outside the throne, little less power hungry, second-in-line aunts—but the result had been the same: Wu alone.

“I’m sorry,” Mako says, laying him on the bed. He tucks Wu in, gently; Mako comes off as gruff, but he’s never anything but gentle when handling Wu. “Everyone should have someone to care about them.”

“Yeah,” Wu says. The sentiment would normally bring Wu’s spirit down, but he’s warm, and the tea has softened his throat, and the painkillers are starting to drag him into sleep.

If Wu feels a kiss pressed against his head as he drifts off to sleep—well, that’s just the medicine talking. 

3.

After he gets Grandma Yin and the rest of the Republic City refugees safely out of the city, Wu takes a deep breath and, for once in his life, takes a second to consider his next move instead of rushing in head first. Mako, wherever he is, would be proud.

And then he and Pema are back to work, ushering the residents further away from the crackle of guns he can hear coming from the city.

Eventually they get word that things are—stable isn’t quite the right word, but calm enough for the moment. The mecha giant is down, and Kuvira has been captured, and while her cronies haven’t quite gotten the message that they’ve lost, it’s decided that it’s safe enough for Wu and a few of the higher level officials and healers to return to start dealing with the damage.

Instead of going to meet with Raiko, however, Wu scrambles around where the crowd has converged around the remains of the city, feeling the inexplicable need to make sure that Mako is okay. He can see Pema nearby, searching for her family, and the comparison makes Wu feel a little silly. Mako is his _employee,_ maybe his friend if Wu is being generous; Wu should be looking to the future of his country, not searching for his bodyguard. 

The fires and ( _dead bodies)_ destruction around the city are all too reminiscent of when Ba Sing Se was captured. Wu starts to feel the stress of the day fold down around him, and he tells himself he just has to find Mako, and then he can fall apart a little bit, secure in the knowledge that Mako won’t judge him or let anything happen to him.

Only when Wu finally finds Mako, he’s barely conscious, stretched out on a field cot in the makeshift camp. There’s the nauseating smell of burnt flesh in the air, and Wu tries not to think too hard about why a firebender’s arm is wrapped in hastily applied, blood-soaked field dressings.

Mako’s eyes open—his pupils are shot, and Wu is relieved that he at least seems to be on some very good drugs. “Wu,” he says, sounding childishly delighted and more like his little brother than himself. “You made it.”

“Yeah,” Wu says, and he tries to be strong, he really does. But Mako is pulling him down onto the edge of his bed, and Wu is crying before he knows it. He’s gasping for breath, and maybe he’s going to suffocate, just like his aunt did. This close, the smell of burnt flesh is stronger, but Wu feels better for being able to hear the reassuring thump of Mako’s heartbeat. 

“‘S okay,” Mako says, clumsily petting him. “Just breathe. In and out. We’re okay.”

“I almost got everyone killed today,” Wu confesses in the quiet. _And you apparently almost died,_ Wu wants to add, but it feels too big, too momentous to say out loud. 

“Not what I heard,” Mako says. “Pema came by looking for Tenzin. Said you _saved_ everyone.” Mako’s voice becomes a little more coherent at the last part, and he blinks rapidly as he tries to keep his focus on Wu. It’s startlingly adorable. “You’re gonna make a great king. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

There’s a lump in Wu’s throat at Mako’s naked sincerity, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’m really glad you’re okay too,” Wu finally gets the courage to say, “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” but he’s met with the answer of Mako’s snores.

2.

The punch comes sudden and swift. There’s a crack of pain across his temple, and before Wu can really register it, the Dai Li are wrestling the offender away. His bisexuality has always been an open secret, but apparently Wu being queer _and_ trying to spread democracy is too much for some people to bear. “Wu down,” he says, and he’s _joking,_ but Mako goes pale anyway, hurrying him back to Wu’s suite.

“That was so _stupid,_ ” Mako hisses, even as he gently cleans the scrape on Wu’s forehead. Wu’s never had such concerned anger directed at him before; he wonders if this was how Bolin felt growing up. “You should have just kept walking; you didn’t have to egg him on.”

Wu laughs. “Mako, my _honor_ was at stake! I could let him get away with cracks about my sexuality, or my politics, but insulting the royal broach? Too far!”

Mako doesn’t say anything, and Wu frowns a little. He looks so _serious,_ even for Mako, and it seems like that expression has been on his face ever since they arrived in Ba Sing Se. Wu has been worrying for weeks that Mako regrets his decision to come along. “You okay there, big guy?”

Mako doesn’t respond for a minute, biting his lip. Wu’s cut is cleaned and bandaged, but Wu doesn’t point that out to Mako; Mako is thumbing the edge of Wu’s unblemished cheek gently, and it’s incredibly soothing. “I’m sorry for snapping. My arm is hurting.” 

“Is that it, really?”

“I just—” Wu has never seen Mako at a loss for words before. “I guess, with the Dai Li and everything, you don’t really need me to protect you anymore.”

The thought of transforming a broken kingdom into a thriving democracy alone, without Mako, makes Wu shudder. “I may not need you to protect me anymore,” and Mako makes a face that almost looks _sad_ , and Wu wonders, for the first time, if he isn’t the only one who feels the thread between them _._ “But I don’t think I’ll ever not need you.” And because the emotion is too genuine for either of them, Wu adds, “I need to keep you around to talk me down when I want to trade the Kingdom’s oil reserves for fancy shoes.”

Once again, Mako doesn’t respond, but this time he smiles. Wu counts it as a victory.

1.

_Attempted coups were inevitable,_ the Dai Li had said. Now that he was king, Wu had a formal security detail staffed by the best the Dai Li had to offer, but here was the coup they had predicted, and they were nowhere to be found. It was just Wu, stripped of his power glove, and a very bruised and battered Mako. Some security. Wu would be demanding a _full_ refund if he made it out alive. 

The bad guy is monologuing. Wu has learned, during his team Korra-adjacent stint, that monologuing is apparently the secret sauce that made a truly terrifying villain. The worst part is, he’s rambling on and _on_ about there shouldn’t be a monarchy in the Earth Kingdom, which is, like, Wu’s whole goddamn _thing._ Wu possibly hates an unoriginal copycat even more than he hates a deranged murderer. 

But then one of the bad guy goons is walking in their direction, knife raised high, and _oh,_ Wu might really die this time. Before he can get there, though, Mako speaks. “Don’t kill me.”

The ringleader laughs. “And why the hell would I do that? You’re irrelevant. And we have to kill the king if we’re going to parade his head around the streets.”

At least his people would be graced with the beauty of Wu’s visage one last time. 

“I don’t care about the king,” Mako says, and everyone stills. 

Well. Wu had certainly read _that_ relationship wrong. 

“I can be useful,” Mako continues, not even looking in Wu’s direction. He sounds calm, and not at all like he’d just badly lost a ten to one bender battle. “Think about it. The Chief of Police’s protege, the King’s _pet guard_ —I can point them in the wrong direction; buy you time to escape.”

The ringleader sneers. “Why should we trust you?”

Mako smirks, a little. “Let me take care of the King.”

There’s nervous glances between the henchmen, and Mako rolls his eyes. “There’s half a dozen of you, and one of me, and you’re all earth benders. There’s no way I get out alive if I try to pull a stunt.” Mako looks at Wu, finally. His eyes are cold and hard and sad—it’s little comfort, that Mako apparently feels a little bad about what he’s doing. “I’m smart enough to cut my losses instead of dying pointlessly.”

The leader seems to settle on something, and steps his foot down decisively. The metal shackles around Mako’s wrists melt away as if they were wax. The goon proffers the knife to Mako, and Mako laughs. “Fire bender, remember?”

The fire rushes toward him before Wu can even scream. 

Even being a non-bender with _very_ little interest in fighting, Wu’s always known that Mako, while maybe not a particularly powerful bender, has amazing precision. The ground in front of Wu grows so hot he imagines Bolin could lava bend it, and the fire surrounds him, so close he can smell his hair singing. He can feel it licking at the legs of the chair Wu’s been tied to. But no matter how hot Wu feels, none of the flames seem to actually touch him.

The chair leg collapses beneath him, burnt to cinders. The flame catches Wu’s leg, and Wu wails from the heat of it; the fire jerks away, almost as if in apology, and Wu spins as he hurdles toward the ground. He lands face down in the surprisingly cool ashes—too cool to have arrived that way naturally—and they billow around him, submerging him as the fire recedes. 

He tries desperately not to cough as he hears faint muttering from the goons behind him. 

“The body’s too hot,” Mako says, and Wu knows him well enough to hear the faint note of desperation in his voice. “But if you want to get burned yourself, be my guest.”

“C’mon,” says the ringleader, “we’ve got work to do.” 

Wu waits until it’s quiet, and then weighs his options. He wants to go after Mako, but—Even if Wu knew how to fight beyond basic defense, his leg is burnt to where he can’t stand on it, and there’s six of the goons. He has no idea how far down the cavern is, but he knows the exit is close. _I’m smart enough to cut my losses instead of dying pointlessly,_ Mako had said.

Wu does the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and runs for the exit. 

0.

Korra and the others aren’t far, still recovering from the ambush that had taken Wu and Mako, but it takes Wu, limping from the burn, too much time that Mako doesn’t have. When they finally make it back to the lair, Wu hanging on to an anxious Naga, Korra doesn’t hesitate before ripping it apart, Bolin right behind her. Asami stays with Wu, gripping his arm tightly as they wait.

It’s so quiet that when Bolin and Korra emerge, Wu doesn’t even notice at first. They’re both pale and bloody; Korra is waving glowing water over a floating slab of rock that Bolin is gently pushing. By the time Wu can understand that the whimpering heap on the rock is Mako, they’re already gone, headed to the direction of the palace and the infirmary.

The hours drag by as they wait outside the operating theater. Bolin is with them, having been kicked out by the healers; he’s completely still, but every so often, the ground rumbles with tiny earthquakes. Wu doesn’t know what to do, his authority as king completely useless, so he tries to burn his energy up by pacing back and forth, even though his leg is barely holding him up. Asami looks like she’s about to murder them both.

What feels like years later, Korra comes out, waving Bolin in as she collapses heavily into Asami’s lap. A few of the other healers shuffle out, one taking a moment to look at Wu’s leg, and they wait again. Wu is starting to doze off when Bolin emerges again. “He’s awake,” Bolin says, smiling and teary eyed. “Wu, do you want to see him?”

The smell of antiseptic is strong; nearly every inch of Mako seems like it’s covered in bandages. Water healing can only do so much; Mako’s leg is up in traction, and his arm is in a cast. Poor Mako can’t catch a break with his arms. “Bolin better watch out; he’s not the only one with actor genes in the family.”

Mako doesn’t meet his eyes, eyes glued to Wu’s heavy limp. “I hurt you.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’d been screaming.

“Mako, I’d be in a thousand pieces if it weren’t for you,” Wu says disbelievingly.

“Hmm,” Mako says, but he still doesn’t look at Wu. 

“Thank you,” Wu says.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Mako says. “Wu, you know, I—” Mako stops and swallows. 

“I know. Me too.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss on Mako’s mouth, and then settles by the bed, petting his hair until Mako falls asleep. It’s Wu’s turn to keep watch for a little while.


End file.
